Mr Monk and the Seven Mirrors
by spygurl
Summary: An especially treacherous serial killer knows Mr. Monk, a little too well in fact to hit on his weaknesses and somehow manage to bamboozle him into a compelling mystery filled with exploit and electifying suspense.  Can this villain be brought to justice?


**Hey, first Monk story—be easy on me!**

Chapter 1: The Insanity of 99 cents and a Typical Homicide ~Natalie POV~

Three. Three whole hours. You would think that purchasing sandwich ingredients would only require about twenty minutes, give or take, but no. Not with Mr. Monk.

Let me start by introducing myself. Natalie Teeger, blonde hair, caucassion, mid-thirties, single—whoa. It's official, I have been listening to way too many crime scene reports. But of course, that's my job. Well, somewhat; you see, I'm the assistant of legendary Adrian Monk, perhaps you've heard of him. From unmasking red-handed murderers to solving complex homicide mysteries, he is a consultant for the San Francisco Police Department and has cracked arduous impossible-seeming countless mysteries wide open.

But unfortunately, he wasn't appearing exactly heroic at the current moment. "2._99?_" Monk whined exasperatedly. "Natalie, do you see this insanity? What kind of sane rational person would do such a crime?"

I rest my case. "Mr. Monk, I do not know why they do that. Why don't you just ask them?" I replied sarcastically, trying to be as patient as a single mother with a low salary could. He may be amazing at solving cases but is extremely OCD and has a list of phobias and fears as long as the isle we were in. OCD stands for obsessive compulsive disorder and he can't concentrate or even function when something is out of place, crooked, disorganized, or is unsymmetrical. Sure, it's a pain in the neck but I suppose it's worth it in the long run.

"Excuse me, saleslady," Mr. Monk beckoned to a short, red-haired employee with freckles sprinkled across her nose. Her name tag read _Sandra_.

Glancing up from a clipboard, she smiled. "May I help you, sir?" She has no idea.

"Yes, I was curious as to who places the price tags on the food merchandise?" Mr. Monk stated calmly, Sandra giving him a perplexed look; I guess she didn't receive those types of questions often.

"I'm not sure, I just work as a sales analyzer," she responded, explaining why she carried a clipboard crammed with papers and a pencil fixated behind her ear.

"But somebody must be responsible for this madness! Since when did people start charging 99 cents instead of a dollar? It would be incredibly more unproblematic if customers didn't have to go burrowing through their wallets, searching for quarters, dimes, nickels, pennies, and other coins when instead, they could simply reach into their—"

"I'm sorry, sir, but this is not my area of work. If you would like to speak to my manager—"she continued, more impatient and her voice filled with irritation and edge. This was one of the numerous times I wanted to just crawl in a hole and not come out until his 'episodes' were over. Recognizing we were starting to make a scene, I gently pulled his arm back, but not hard enough for him to jerk back once again to his defensive position and prolong quarrelling with Sandra.

"I would love to speak with your manager!" Mr. Monk continued.

"Mr. Monk, let it _go_," I grumbled into his ear, hoping to leave before this ridiculous situation turned any worse.

"Hopefully then, he will come to his senses and alter his polices to a more reasonable regulation!" He managed to get in just before I yanked him away, beseeching him to lower his voice as shoppers were commencing to stare.

Deliberately paying the check promptly, we zipped through the parking lot, my face still flushed with embarrassment.

Mr. Monk still shaking his head, he chuckled amusingly, "Two dollars and ninety nine cents. Indisputably, they lack good old fashioned common sense."

"Well, at least we acquired the groceries," I responded sighing. Just then, my phone sounded _Where is the Love _by the Black Eyed Peas. Quite frankly, I've never been a fan of rapping, but the chorus part when they actually _sang _always made me smile, partly because of the uplifting beat and partially the inspirational message it sends. See, my daughter Julie had been bullied in second grade by this tough beefy girl named Karen. She used to tease and taunt Julie about her hair since it was short back then. Of course, being the protective and devoted mother I am, I took care of _that _matter. Once I called the school and notified them, they informed me that several other parents had complained in addition to me about her too. As soon as the principal punished Karen for bullying, she was on her best behavior for the remainder of the year.

After rummaging around in my muddled purse, I answered, "Natalie Teeger."

"Hey, Natalie, does Monk happen to be with you?" a gruff distinguishable voice responded; Captain Leland Stottelmeyer, his title pretty explanatory.

"He is, why is there a case?" I asked, rather dolefully. Honestly, my schedule has been relatively hectic lately with Julie's school events, me volunteering to be a chaperon for a field trip and organizing the plans and groups. But hopefully, Mr. Monk will just wrap this up rapidly. Stottelmeyer customarily calls Monk if the police are stumped with a homicide, even if they're intensely puzzling.

"Yeah, this one's really bizarre. Can you and he arrive at the fair at an entertainment building called the _Finesse Funhouse?_ There's orange crime scene taped around the perimeter of the crime scene; can't miss it."

"Ok, we'll be there in approximately fifteen minutes," I replied before hanging up. "Got another case," I reported to Monk.

Not shockingly, he looked as eager and enthusiastic about a case as a little kid would to be actually going to the fair. "What happened? Where is it? Who was murdered—"

"I don't know all the details. Stottelmeyer just said to meet him at the crime scene," I interrupted. I wasn't going to reveal it occurred at a fair, however, I couldn't go through with forcing him to cooperate right now. I just didn't have much patience left today. Typical day at work.

"Where is it?" Monk inquired curiously, rubbing his hands together with anticipation.

"You'll see . . ."

**So what did you think? Please review and who else has a pet peeve of store people always adding 99 cents instead of a dollar to products? It sure would make the world a better place if only they executed that sort of logic lol.**


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